We had almost reached our destination, the massive, modern National Exhibition Centre outside Birmingham, England, when it happened. And he kachooed with such force that he popped off the buttons that were holding up his black, silver-studded trousers.Given the circumstances, this could only be viewed as a major catastrophe. The man who, even though his voice didn't break until he was seventeen, is now the lead singer for Duran Duran, one of the most popular bands in the world.
How could it be that the members of such a young group had already adopted Rod Stewart-like personas?
Whatever happened to the idea that rock & roll was supposed to be subversive? Suddenly, these guys were video superstars, like the Monkees.
The money for those houses has largely come from the band's enormous success in Great Britain, where they have had a string of nine hit singles dating back to 1981's "Planet Earth." But, as Andy Taylor was pointing out, the group's rise to international stardom wasn't made complete until Duran Duran finally cracked the U. The resulting video clips, which more often than not showed the band members prancing around exotic locales with beautiful women on their arms, engendered some hatred for the band among older, more serious rock fans.
After all, what was a British band doing espousing a jet-set lifestyle when millions of people in their own country were on the dole?
As youngsters, they shared an avid interest in music; in fact, recalled John, they were the only kids on their block hip enough to own a copy of David Bowie's LP.
From the start, Rhodes knew he wanted to be a rock star.
K., while in America it had sold more than a million copies within a couple of weeks of its release.
And because of that popularity, the group had taken to dressing for their shows at their hotel and dashing in and out of their concert halls, thereby avoiding the mayhem that can result from hordes of prepubescent girls straining to get a glimpse of the band members, or an autograph, or even a piece of their clothing. As a result, it was imperative that something be done about Simon's pants. So as the bus roared closer and closer to the arena, the twenty-five-year-old Le Bon — he swears it's his real name, claiming Huguenot ancestors who moved to England in the fifteenth century (never mind that the Huguenots only date back to sixteenth-century France) — peeled off his trousers and handed them over to the band's two Australian wardrobe women.
Situated in a residential section of Wolverhampton, a city with a population of about a quarter-million located about a half-hour's drive from the center of Birmingham, the house looks like the kind of place any upper-middle-class professional would own: furniture that might have been bought at Conran's; good, though not extravagant, stereo equipment; a video machine.